Catch Me Up
by backinthebox
Summary: Despite hers and Kurt's beliefs, Santana was not a vampire that needed to be invited into their home. But she was surprised to see Santana wasn't alone.


A/N: Even more Season 4 wishful thinking.  
I came across the pictures of Dianna and Naya in the set of Rachel and Kurt's apartment, and compounded by finally seeing the Thanksgiving episode, I decided that there's got to be a better story than what we're probably going to get. (That "better story" is probably not this one.)  
It's unbeta'd, but I wanted it out before the episode airs and sets me off once more into a rage.

And, yes, there are obvious Buffy references.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. Obviously. I'm borrowing the characters for entertainment purposes only, no copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks for reading. Enjoy. Review (if you want).

* * *

She'll admit: sometimes she just wants to blow off her classes so she can go around New York and bask in the glory of finally (finally!) becoming a New Yorker and being one step closer to her dream (destiny) of being a Broadway star.

Instead she has to content herself with rare days off from classes — like today — when a faculty conference means she has one day all to herself. And since she's Rachel Berry, she's done all the required homework they've been assigned, and since it's freezing weather outside, she's still undecided between going out, or her current preferred option of staying home in her warm bed and comfy sheets and bask in being able to grumble about lackluster heating, like a real city girl.

Which is why she is beside herself in annoyance with the persistent knocking on her apartment door.

At seven in the morning.

On her rare day off from school.

Somebody was going to get yelled at.

They better have coffee. (She's been too lazy to figure out the coffeemaker this morning, since Kurt obviously had been in a rush this morning to make any, judging by the lack of caffeine goodness.)

A harder, more insistent knock, this time by more than one hand.

"Coming!" Rachel called out, before finally getting to the door and opening it.

"Finally!" Santana exclaimed, barging in. "Took your sweet time answering your damn door, Berry." She settled on the couch, and kicked off her shoes.

Rachel blinked, watching her, before sighing as she accepted that despite hers and Kurt's beliefs, Santana was not a vampire that needed to be invited into their home. She turned to close the door, but was surprised to see Santana wasn't alone. "Quinn."

"Hey, Rachel." Quinn offered softly, smiling. She lifted the coffee tray and paper bag in her hands. "Coffee and bagels."

"Come in," Rachel smiled back, ushering her inside. She took the bags and brought it to the kitchen/dining table. She turned around to find that Quinn had followed her instead of settling on the couch beside Santana. She couldn't help the giddy grin that pulled at her lips at the sight of the blonde. "Hi."

"Hi." It seemed Quinn was unable not to return the grin, which only grew as she watched Rachel rock on her heels, obviously trying to keep still. When she finally did, Rachel stayed still for all of two seconds before she threw her arms around the blonde.

Quinn hugged her back, the exuberant hug hello turning quickly into a comforting embrace. "Hi, Rachel."

"Ugh, get a room." Santana muttered loudly, cutting off Rachel's return greeting. "Something with walls, because what, Berry, you and Hummel too good for walls?"

"Ignore her," Quinn suggested, slowly pulling out of Rachel's arms. "She's been a little…"

"Cantankerous?" Rachel suggested.

"Bitchy, is more appropriate." Quinn replied. She gazed at Rachel with a soft smile.

"How have you been, Rachel?" She then immediately rolled her eyes at herself in self-deprecation, much to Rachel's amusement. "I mean, of course you're fine, your last email made that obvious, what I mean is—"

"God, Q, just declare your undying love already." Santana said loudly. "We got coffee, Berry, aren't you gonna be all up in our business to show off how good a hostess you are?"

Rachel shot a glare in Santana's general direction, which was useless since Santana was flipping through one of Kurt's fashion magazines. She turned back to Quinn, tilting her head in Santana's direction inquiringly.

"She's been… upset since Britt's started dating Sam and she found out they wanted to get married last month." Quinn explained.

Rachel frowned. "I thought they broke up."

"Yeah, well," Quinn shrugged. "You know how sometimes that doesn't really mean much of anything."

Rachel gave her a weak smile. "I would know, right?"

Quinn's eyes widened, almost comically so, realizing how her words might have come out. "That's not— I didn't mean—"

Rachel shook her head, reassuring the blonde she didn't take offense. "So you two decided to come see me?"

"Make with the coffee already, and I can hear you, you know." Santana told them.

Quinn grabbed the tray of coffees, and pointed to the bag of bagels. "Grab those?"

Rachel took the bag. "Don't you have classes today?"

"Santana invoked pinky promise," Quinn said dryly.

"She invoked pinky promise to see me?" Rachel questioned.

Quinn shrugged helplessly, as if to highlight how Santana was calling the shots. She shoved Santana's legs to get the brunette's feet off the coffee table in front of her, and handed her a cup of coffee. She took one for herself, and handed the last one to Rachel, who was taking a seat on a chair beside the couch. "Caramel with soy milk?"

"Ugh, you're still doing that vegan crap?" Santana scoffed. "Do you enjoy feeling superior to us that much?"

"Actually, no," Rachel admitted shyly. "I'm not really vegan anymore."

Santana turned to Quinn. "See, you totally don't have to go vegan to—"

Quinn slapped Santana's arm to keep her from talking. "That's understandable. With the cost of living in New York City, it's probably easier to stay vegetarian than strictly vegan for now."

Rachel hesitated. "I'm not really vegetarian, either."

Both girls sitting on the couch frowned.

"So what do you eat?" Santana asked, confused.

"But being vegan meant so much to you," Quinn argued.

"I know," Rachel shrugged. "But I couldn't really eat anything when Finn would bring me places with non-vegan options, and Brody isn't that picky an eater either, so…"

"Right. Brody." Quinn said, and there was not a subtle amount of steel in her tone of voice.

Rachel, whose perfect pitch had been re-honed in her time at NYADA, noticed. Instead of making a fuss, she only said, "You should meet him."

"Can't wait." Quinn grit out.

Santana glanced at her former cheerleading captain before turning back to Rachel. "So. Been busy with school? Missed you Thanksgiving. And Christmas."

"School's been great." Rachel answered.

"I've been meaning to call, to congratulate you on winning the Winter Showcase," Quinn offered.

"We do have train tickets," Rachel reminded. And then, because she wasn't very good at being subtle, added, "You could have come anytime. Or even for the show."

"Yeah, Q, girl got you tickets and you can't take the time to see her and worship at her feet when she wins the school talent show?" Santana mocked.

Rachel opened her mouth, before stopping and frowning. She looked to Quinn, confused, and Quinn's stricken expression didn't help, either. "_I_ got _you_ tickets?"

Santana glanced from one girl to the other, noticing the sudden tension in the space between them. She frowned, taking note of Berry's hurt expression and Quinn's panicked face.

_Oh._

Santana levelled a look upon Quinn. "You totally got those tix, didn't you?"

Quinn glanced away, taking a sip of her coffee.

Santana rolled her eyes, and turned to Rachel. "Sorry. Q's emotionally-stunted. We needs to talk, Berry."

To her credit, Rachel tore her eyes away from Quinn to gaze steadily upon the Latina. "What about?"

"Kentucky sucks, and I need to know what you know about enrolment in local city colleges here."

"Here?" Rachel echoed. "In New York?"

"No, in freaking Oz." Santana retorted. "Yes, in New York. My grades are good, but not scholarship material, and cheerleading's OK but it's not fun when your best friends aren't around, and you and Hummel grate on my nerves but I can deal, so tell me what I need to know."

Rachel stalled, reeling from this piece of information. "Um. Well, I know you need to have a city address to even apply, and someone from Kurt's job said you can use proof of employment to get a scholarship in some schools. We _are_ talking general college courses, right?"

"Yes, Berry, not to worry your little head, I'm not going to steal the spotlight from you at NYADA."

"Well that's pretty much what I know," Rachel admitted. "Louisville's that bad?"

Santana gave her a wry smile. "It was OK when Britts and I were a thing, even on a break, but I just really don't want to be in driving distance to Lima anymore, you know?"

Rachel nodded. Oh yes. She knew.

"Now, part two of the reason we're here," Santana resumed her usual fierce composure, and motioned to Quinn. "Our emotionally-stunted friend here won't 'fess up that her life in Yale's a total lie that she keeps getting invited to things but can't enjoy any of it because she's a fun vacuum."

"That's mean," Rachel said, while Quinn only glared at Santana.

"Yeah, whatevs." Santana turned to Quinn. "Berry got her head out of her ass and dumped Finnept like the wet rag that he is. You owe yourself the same."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Quinn retorted. "Or do you want another smackdown to match last Thanksgiving's?"

"Q!" Santana shouted, getting to her feet. "I know I suck sometimes as your friend, but let's admit to some basic things, OK? You deserve awesome. You deserve greatness. You deserve to be happy. But dating a middle-aged loser skateboarder and now your cheating bastard Psych professor? I'm taking Psych 101, too, and instead of tilting my head and saying 'hmm', I'm gonna give you the best piece of advice you'll ever need: dating them older won't solve your daddy issues. Your dad was a dick for making you feel like shit for getting knocked up and throwing you out of the house, and you deserve better than trying to chase after the approval you're never gonna get from him. These older guys aren't gonna give it to you, and they're not going to tell you what you want to hear the most."

Quinn's gaze briefly flickered towards the quiet brunette behind Santana before she shot a warning glare at her former fellow cheerleader. "Shut up."

"They're not going to make you happy, Q." Santana said softly. "And they're never gonna give you the approval you need to go after what's going to."

"Geez, Santana, could you be more cryptic?" Quinn said sarcastically.

"Fine, I was gonna spare you the trouble of facing the obvious, but I can do blunt, too." Santana turned to Rachel. "Q's been chasing older men because she's got daddy issues 'cause her Daddy Dearest will never tell her it's OK to be in love with you."

"I seriously doubt Quinn could be—" Rachel began, but was interrupted by the standing brunette.

"Q? You gonna look Berry in the eye and deny you check her out in her tiny skirts and jizz in your pants when she sings?"

"Fuck you, Santana."

"Like how you call for a taxi every Friday to go to the train station but you can't bring yourself to come see her 'cause you didn't want to hear her whine about Finnbecile and gush over her new boytoy: Yeah, I talked to your roomie." Santana addressed Quinn, but kept her eyes locked on Rachel. "Or maybe you want to tell Berry about your plan on giving her the perfect prom and making her prom queen?"

Off Rachel's stunned look, Santana smiled triumphantly. "This coffee sucks. I'm gonna go to Starbucks. Q's in love with you, you ping my lesbi-dar when you're with Q. Discuss." She then made her way out of the apartment.

Rachel was pretty sure her brain had short circuit a little. Did Santana really just say—?

"I hate her. So much." Quinn muttered into the silence in the room. She sat up, and turned to Rachel in concern. "Are you OK? Santana's just such a bitch, you don't have to say anything or… whatever. I mean, I'm sure you have questions, or…"

"Is it true?" Rachel asked.

There was a long silence, before a soft answer broke it. "Yes."

"Which—"

"All of it."

"But…" Rachel frowned. "You told Santana I bought the train tickets?"

Quinn sighed. "What was I supposed to say, Rachel? That I'm in love with the girl I tormented for most of high school and to make up for it I gave her a Metro North Pass so I can live with the hope I'll get to see her at all before she completely writes me out of her life?" She took a deep breath. "Saying you gave them to me meant less questions."

"And everybody expects I'm so desperate that I'd give really expensive tickets to the girl I've always wanted to be friends with." Rachel concluded, her tone betrayed a darker edge.

Quinn glanced at Rachel. "Rach—"

"No, that's obviously the conclusion everybody made, right?" Rachel snapped. "I mean, _obviously_ you didn't want anyone to even _entertain_ the thought that you're the one who wanted to keep in touch. Lest they think we're friends, right? I bet you told them about my weekly emails, but didn't mention that we're in constant communication, or that you email me back. No, that's just…" Rachel's laugh was dry, almost bitter. "Why would Quinn Fabray deign to respond to Rachel Berry's emails."

"That's not—"

"That's just…" Rachel shook her head in deprecation. "That's just _awesome_, Quinn. Here I was, so thrilled to see you for the first time in ages, and I get the one-two punch that's been our every interaction since I've known you."

"Don't…" Quinn levelled Rachel with a look. "How do you think _I_ feel, Rachel? Do you think I like being in love with someone who I bet remembers me primarily as the girl who made her a walking target for every day of most of her high school life? Do you think I enjoy knowing I can never look at your dads without knowing that they look at me and see not just the girl who tormented you for years, but the girl whose father got them ostracized from most of Lima? Do you really think I can actually tell anyone I like you without them thinking I have an ulterior motive or think I'm making a joke?"

"But Santana—"

"Santana took a guess, and she got it right. I'm not brave like you, Rachel. I don't take leaps of faith unless I know where I'm gonna land. So, yeah, I told Glee Club that you got the tickets and played it like I don't look forward to every email you send me. Maybe I just don't want to deal with the questions yet, because you know what? I don't have all of the answers. I'm pretty sure I don't have _any_ of the answers." Quinn sighed again. "I know I like you. And I know that just like you had Finn then, and you have Brody now, just because I think you're the brightest star in the entire universe and I'm the prettiest girl you've ever met doesn't mean I have a shot in hell. So just… leave it alone, OK? Consider this one of Santana's high-strung rants and just leave it."

When Quinn stopped talking and took a deep breath, she seemed to have sucked all the air in the room with the pervading silence that followed.

Finally Rachel asked in a soft voice, "Is it true about prom?"

Quinn closed her eyes, and nodded.

"But why?"

"Because prom is important." Quinn said quietly. "If anyone deserves to be in the spotlight with a tiara, dancing with the person they love, it's you. I figured, prom and Nationals the previous year were both such a bust, and I couldn't do much for Nationals, but if I could make up for your memories of prom, I would do it."

Rachel looked down at the coffee cup she held in her hands, resting on her lap. "You've known since prom? You've had feelings for me since prom?"

Quinn's laugh was wry and bitter. "I realized I was in love with you the moment I slapped you."

Rachel swiftly looked up, and met the strained look in green eyes. "But—"

"Rachel." Quinn cut her off, firmly but quietly. "I don't know what Santana's purpose was in telling you, why, or why now. But you don't have to say anything. You don't need to push. I know you want answers, but I meant it when I said I don't know them. I don't know why I love you. I just do. And this isn't guilt, or misplaced affection, or whatever else. I love you. Very truly, very simply." Quinn lowered her gaze. "If this ruins our friendship, then so be it. But Santana's right — you had to know. If you want me to leave, tell me so, right now. If you want us to stop being friends, it'll hurt like hell, but I'll do it, because you deserve that. I'll never get over it, and I'll regret it, but you deserve better than me."

There was a pause.

"But there is no better than you."

Quinn looked up to see watery brown eyes. "Rach…"

"Santana was right, you know. You deserve awesome." Rachel stood up and made her way closer to the sitting blonde. She sat down beside Quinn and gazed at the blonde as she repeated what Santana had said earlier. "You deserve awesome. You deserve greatness. You deserve to be happy."

"But I don't deserve you." Quinn whispered brokenly.

Rachel smiled softly. "Are you saying I'm not awesome?"

There was no sound better than the soft, choked laugh from Quinn.

"Am I not great, Quinn Fabray?" Rachel teased, brushing back a lock of hair from Quinn's face. When their eyes met again, Rachel gazed at green eyes searchingly. "Won't I make you happy?"

Quinn laughed, a lighter, softer sound. "Very happy."

Rachel smiled, before tilting down Quinn's head to kiss the top of her head. "I have a loose end to tie up, but I'd like to take you out to dinner."

"I'd like that." Quinn gave her a gentle smile. "And there's a vegan place I'd like to try."

Rachel laughed. "I like you already, Quinn. You don't have to go vegan for me."

Quinn smiled wryly. "You'll forgive me, Rachel, because I had an elaborate fantasy of what it's like to date Rachel Berry and vegan dining was part of it."

"Oh?" Rachel leaned forward, intrigued. "What else was in this 'elaborate' fantasy of yours?"

"Now, Rachel, to tell you that is to take the fun out of the whole thing."

Rachel laughed, which was the sound that greeted Santana when she returned.

Taking note of the comfortable atmosphere and the new seating arrangement, Santana also took note of the two girls' condition. "Jesus, Berry, you could have at least kissed Quinnept to rub it in how much sooner she could've been doing that."

"Oh," Rachel glanced at Quinn, before turning back to Santana. "I think she knows."

Santana dropped down onto the chair Rachel had occupied earlier. She nodded at Quinn. "What do you think, Q? We gonna stick around, or are we rushing you back to class this afternoon?"

"I think I'm gonna save on that train fare since I'm hoping to be using it a lot more regularly from now on." Quinn admitted, and turned to Rachel. "Think you can find accommodations for two former Cheerios around here?"

"I'm sure we can figure something out," Rachel allowed. "As it is, I suspect accommodations will need to be found for Santana's impending change of locale."

"Whatever you say, Berry." Santana said dismissively as she glanced around the apartment. "Think you can pitch a third tent in here?"

She may look forward to the rare day off to enjoy her new home of New York City, but she'll readily admit that right now, she's glad she stayed home.


End file.
